The Mage~*
by FireLily
Summary: a girl who is EXTREMELY intelligent has a magic... a witch discovers her... she goes to hogwarts... my first well-sized fic on fanfiction.net... r/r please!
1. Default Chapter Title

**PROLOGUE**

Everyone has always looked right past me; let their gaze sweep over me like I'm a small hairball, annoying but not important enough to dust away, not important enough to matter. They don't know that I'm more powerful than they would ever be, that I know more than they'll ever know, that I've seen so much and they've seen so little. They don't know that I'm superior, that I could take over their mind with a wave of my hand, that I could put them under an endless spell of nothing, that I could kill them with a blink of my eyes. They think they control me. They don't know how wrong they are. I'm the one that controls them.

# Chapter One: The History of The Mage

At some point or other during your life, you begin to realize that _you_ are in control of your life, not your parents, not your teachers, not your peers. Usually this time comes in your early teens, later for some. For me it was at age four.

You see, I never was what you would call an ordinary person. I learned to run at six months and I began reading at nine months. I started to play the flute at eighteen months. I've been called a prodigy, genius, and a few other things that weren't nearly so good.

It's hard, because while my classmates were learning their ABC's, I was studying ancient Greek philosophy. I told my teachers not to tell my foster parents. They obeyed, assuming it would be a surprise. Idiots.

I'm an orphan. I never met my parents; I don't know what happened to them. They are miniscule aspects of my life. I am not curious about them. But I do know that by their leaving me, I was put with foster parents. I have been continually switched from house to house, family to family. There have only been one or two that have actually were kind. The rest either ignored me or flogged me verbally or with a switch. I have been tempted only too many times to attack them with my powers. But I restrain. After all, they don't deserve my wrath.

And so my life begins, an endless twist of turmoil and hate, strength against weakness. And I am the strength.

**Chapter Two: The Meeting of The Magical**

It was a hot late August day when my thirty-ninth foster family booted me out. I remember well. I was very reluctant to go back to the orphanage, as I had long ago learned that the others despised you and that the headmistresses made you sweep the stair and wash the floor endlessly. So clever little me decided to go to the train station. Luckily for me, a lady stopped me as I was hiking to the nearest one. I felt too hot and lazy to Transport anywhere, plus I had so much time left… I might as well do something. Like hiking. But anyway.

She was tall and thin, with prominent cheekbones and pretty blue-brown eyes. Her light brown hair was twisted up in the back, and she looked quite severe – or she would have if not for the sparkle in her eyes and her dimpling mouth.

"Where are you going, young lady?" asked she.

"To the train station," I replied dutifully. "There's one not too far away."

"Dear girl. You expect to hike all the way to Common Road Cross?"

"Yes, I do indeed. I've calculated and I should reach there before nightfall."

"Well, of course." The lady was now circling me, taking in my old clothes and ragged sack, my face, my shoes, all of me. "Dear, you are a normal person?"

This question was obviously quite strange, but something in her voice compelled me to answer truthfully.

"Not exactly," I said slowly. She stopped and looked sharply at me.

"What is so… different about you?" Her eyes were sharp and her voice almost desperate, but she didn't lose that air of authority.

"I'm… well… you see… they all say I'm different, and I am, but I don't know how to explain it." My words came out of my mouth quickly and hung between us a moment. The woman sighed, half knowingly, half curious, and another part something else for which I couldn't find a meaning.

"How exactly?"

"I'm a genius, for one, or that's what they say, at least. And--" was I going to voice my secret for the past nine years to a complete stranger, someone whose name I didn't even know? Yes. I supposed I was. "—and I have a magical power, but… I don't know what kind it is."

The woman looked startled, not at the magic part, but at the genius and that I didn't know what _kind_ of magic.

"Dear, dear. Come with me." She dragged me over to the other side of the street.

"Now, can you explain to me about this magic? And don't worry, I'm not going to take you to a house for mentally ill people. I— I have magic as well."

This hadn't occurred to me, that others had magic, too. Somehow I thought I was the only one. Well, apparently not.

"What is your name?" I inquired.

"Introductions! Yes, yes, well, dear me. I'm Cyrilia McSmith. You may call me either Cyrilia or Ms. McSmith."

"Thank you. I am Melinda Johnson."

"Melinda, can you demonstrate your magic?"

"Of course."

So I Transported to the train station, where Cyrilia stared at me open-mouthed.

"Where have you had your training?" she asked, having finally stopped gaping at me.

"Actually, miss, I've trained myself."

And at that moment I was sure Cyrilia was going to faint.

"You – you – haven't had any formal training?" she whispered.

"No, ma'am."

"Dear God. Come here."

She must have done some kind of Transportation, because we ended up in a large, sunlit kitchen with cheery, neat, modern, white and black decorating.

"This is my house," Cyrilia said, waving her hand carelessly. "Now, Melinda, tell me about your magic…"

And so it all began.

**Chapter Three: The Lessons of The Learning**

Cyrilia began her share of this by explaining magic schools to me. There were thousands of thousands, she said, all over the world. Hogwarts in England, Didergoo in Australia, Foghorn in America, Durmstrang in Bulgaria, Beauxbatons in France. Thousands.

She also explained that a mage, or wizard, as they called them, must go to a school to train under more experienced wizards. I agreed with this, as it becomes difficult to teach yourself sometimes. She told me I needed to go to one such school to train further. I readily consented. I needed something to do, somewhere to go, anyhow.

Cyrilia said that I would go to Hogwarts, since she was the current professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, or DADA as it was commonly referred to as. 

My greatest delight was that she added that I would stay with her for as long as possible, or at least for the term. I was incredibly happy to do this: she was one of maybe two people who treated me as a human instead of as a dog.

And we needed equipment for the school year, both of us. I needed all the supplies for a fifth-year, which was what I was going to be if Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, said that I could. And Cyrilia needed teaching books alongside examples of all the "projects" she would show. But we needed to wait for a letter from Albus Dumbledore until we went.

And then that letter came.

**Chapter Four: The Alley of The Wizards- P. 1**

Dumbledore's letter included a permission slip for letting me join the fifth-years, a permission slip that needed to be signed by my parent/guardian – currently Cyrilia – for trips to Hogsmeade, and a supply list for the fifth-years. Of course, the latter meant that Cyrilia and I could finally get our supplies. And, according to Cyrilia, the only place to go for magical supplies was Diagon Alley.

I Transported and so did Cyrilia, except she calls it Apparating. I don't really care, because to me it's Transporting and that's that.

We arrived at a little chrome sign reading: Apparation Point in engraved black letters. So they call it Apparation, too. Oh, well.

It took me a moment to draw breath, and I don't know exactly why. Perhaps because there was such a broad array of everything, and everything means everything in the wizard world.

Cyrilia pulled me towards a bank called Gringotts. She needed to collect her money, she said. Well, it took a fast, twisting trolley ride to collect her money, that's all I'm saying. It was a very… interesting experience. I suppose.

**Chapter Four: The Alley of The Wizards – P. 2**

We first went into _Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions_, where we both got fitted for robes, seven sets of black and one set of dress robes in green for me, four sets of black, three sets of blue, and one set of dress green for Cyrilia. She looks quite pretty in blue. I wonder how old she is.

We got a pewter cauldron and a pair of dragon-skin gloves at a new shop, _Everyday for Everyschool_, and then we went into _Flying Broomsticks,_ which Cyrilia said was new, also, but it didn't look like it. Cyrilia got me a broomstick, a _KleanKatch900_, which is a pretty good broomstick, apparently. I thought it quite nice of her, as no one ever buys me presents and it was somewhat expensive, but she shrugged it off.

Next was _Flourish and Blott's_, where I got my schoolbooks. And then _The Magical Menagerie_. Cyrilia _insisted_ I get an owl. So I did, a tawny one. I named her Brownbeak.

And then we went to the wand shop. I was very skeptical about this – I like my hand magic better than wand magic, but as it seemed absolutely necessary for the school, I agreed. The owner, Mr. Ollivander, had orb-like eyes. After being measured for the width of my mouth by a measuring tape with a life of it's own, I built up a mound of wands as I tried wand after wand after wand…

And then I found it: ten inches, willow and unicorn hair, quite nice. Cyrilia paid and then we left to eat ice cream and then we went back home to get ready for Hogwarts. I had a lot to learn.

**Chapter Five: The Trio on The Train**

On September first, Cyrilia and I were running around the house last minute, packing extra things, doing errands.

"Did you pack the…?" was what the dialogue consisted of.

But somehow we were able to get to King's Cross at ten minutes to eleven, with me looking presentable in a long skirt and tank top. I was wearing sunglasses and my hair was pulled up in a bun. I'm not sure quite why, but I knew I would be feeling very vulnerable without the glasses or ponytail. I pulled a hat on, too. Cyrilia, however, was perfectly comfortable in a loose summer dress. Figures. She'd be comfortable just about anywhere, I think.

"Right, then," Cyrilia said. "Through the barrier."

I looked at the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"No offense, Cyrilia," I began, "but that looks pretty solid to me."

"Walk through it. Watch."

Cyrilia dragged Brownbeak and I, along with all our trunks, up to the barrier and casually leaned on it. I imitated her and soon we were on a whole other platform with people dresses in pointy hats and robes milling around.

"Let's get a seat," suggested Cyrilia, "then we can talk to people, maybe."

I shrugged and followed her on board. We got the compartment near the end of the carriage, with Cyrilia insisting it was the largest. Contrary to Cyrilia's prior suggestion, we sat down and waited for others to board.

We were in the midst of a lively conversation about what happens when you mix farroll's horn with the hair of a grindylow when three someones interrupted us. One was a boy with blond hair and a pale, pointed face. Two others were massive – well, they looked more like beasts than humans, if you ask me.

"Well, what have we here," the blond one said whiningly. "Who might you two be?"

"Professor McSmith and Melinda Johnson," Cyrilia told him.

"I see… well, dear, dear, are you a first-year, Melinda?" the boy asked.

"No," I answered, looking at Cyrilia. She nodded. "I am a fifth-year."

"Fancy, I didn't see you around the last four years."

"I haven't been here the last four years."

"Really? Dear me --" I was getting exceedingly tired of his attitude. I flicked my finger at his two cronies and him. They disappeared, probably now flying above the tracks, strapped to the bottom of the train.

A red-headed boy, followed by a brunette and another boy with untidy, jet-black hair, rushed in and looked around.

"Where'd Malfoy go?" asked he.

"Malfoy? Idiot with blond hair and white skin?" I questioned.

"That's him," the black-haired boy agreed. "Where is he?"

"Oh, him. Hurtling at over sixty miles per hour tied to the bottom of the train," I answered nonchalantly.

"Due to whom?"

"Oh… well… actually, due to me. Is he your friend?"

The redhead and the girl were gaping. The raven-haired one laughed.

"Not at all. What's your name?"

"Melinda Johnson. Yours?"

The red-haired one's name was Ron; the girl was named Hermione, and the third Harry.

Are you a fifth-year?" Ron asked.

"Well… now I am," I replied.

"Yes, well, then you weren't held back. What house are you in?"

"House?" I glanced at Cyrilia, who smiled. "I haven't got a house, actually."

"What do you mean? Oh, are you a _transfer_?" Hermione asked excitedly. "Which school? Where?"

"No school," I said in a low voice. "I haven't gone to any wizard schools."

The trio's jaws dropped at they immediately fell backwards on to seats.

"No – no _training?_" Hermione asked. "At _all_?"

"I've trained myself."

"Oh, dear."

Cyrilia told them, "Please, she's a perfectly able witch. She just hasn't had formal training. I've talked to Dumbledore and he's said she's not a safety hazard."

"Who are you?" Harry inquired. 

"Professor Cyrilia McSmith. This is my…" Cyrilia looked at me questioningly, and this time it was I who nodded. "…this is my daughter."

I smiled happily. I don't think anyone's ever called me their _daughter_.

"Then why isn't her last name McSmith, too? Unless your father's name was Johnson?" asked Ron. I got the feeling he liked to speak his mind a lot. Hermione glared at him.

"Umm… well… it _could_ be Melinda McSmith," I said defensively. "I just haven't made up my mind yet."

"What did that mean?"

"I'm an orphan," I informed them.

"Oh. I see."

And from then, it was a very enjoyable train ride. I became friends with Hermione; Ron and Harry talked, and Cyrilia – well, she slept.

**Chapter Six: The Landing of The Train**

At long last, we reached the train station where we got off for Hogwarts. I pulled an empty trolley over with magic, and Hermione and I loaded our trunks on. Ron and Harry had another trolley for their trunks, and Cyrilia put one of her bags on our trolley and one on the boys'. I was surprised Ron didn't argue.

We got to take horseless carriages over to the castle, instead of the boat across the lake. The castle was _huge_. Beyond huge. Massive. It must have had twelve floors. But Hermione quickly pulled my attention away.

"Come _on,_" she said, dragging me over to the front doors. "You'll need to be sorted."

"Sorted?"

"Into houses. Hope you get into Gryffindor, I do. That's where I am. Try not to go to Slytherin. Avoid it if you can."

"Thanks. Cyrilia?"

She came over.

"Yes?"

"Is Slytherin bad?"

"There hasn't been one Dark Wizard that hasn't gone to Slytherin," Cyrilia said matter-of-factly, "so yes, I suppose it's bad."

"All right, then."

"Oh, yes, and dear, where's the Malfoy boy?"

"Oh, my…!" I shook my head, then snapped my fingers. Malfoy and his two friends appeared, dazed and dirty. "Well, here they are."

Malfoy shot a look of pure hate at me before turning up his nose and walking dizzily into the hall. I grinned after him.

"That," I said, "was fun."

"Melinda!" Cyrilia reprimanded. Then she laughed. "I agree. Oh… I have to teach him, don't I?"

"Take lots of house points. Hermione explained them to me on the way over."

"House points. Good idea."

A black-haired witch came out.

"Cyrilia McSmith?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Oh, good. I'm Professor McGonagall. Do you want to come to the teachers' table now?"

"Indeed. Will someone wait with my daughter?"

"She may come, too," McGonagall sighed.

"Thank you, professor," I said happily.

"You're welcome."

McGonagall turned to lead us from the room.

"I'll probably be the only student to sit at the teachers' table this year," I told Cyrilia joyfully in a whisper.

"Yes, you will be. Probably the first in a century."

"Oh, good."

McGonagall beckoned, and Cyrilia and I followed her into the Great Hall.

Disclaimer: I own no characters except Melinda and Cyrilia and the teachers, foster families (I know not all foster families are mean), and um… yeah. I own Transporting and so far, the magic that Melinda has. She is not a necromancer, OK? Thanks. R/r. bye now.


	2. Default Chapter Title

# Well here it is folks, *~The Mage~*

# Note: the last chapter was meant to be called "The Landing of The Train." THIS chapter is The Sorting of The School" OK?

** **

** **

**Chapter Seven: The Sorting of The School**

The first thing I noticed about the Great Hall was the ceiling. It was pink-tinged with clouds, just like the twilight sky outside. It was amazing…

"Melinda? Teachers' table?" Cyrilia beckoned.

"What? Oh, yeah."

I followed Cyrilia to the table, where a chair was conjured for me. I sat down between Cyrilia and Professor Trelawney, a woman with large glasses, wearing sequined robes. Apparently she was the Divination master.

An elderly man with a long, silvery beard and matching hair stood.

"Welcome, welcome, all, to a new year at Hogwarts. I will wait until after the Sorting to make my announcements, but there is one that must be made now. We have with us a new fifth-year and I hope you'll make her feel welcome. Melinda Johnson, the daughter of our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. And now, our dear beloved Sorting Hat!" 

A short man carried a stool and an old, tattered wizards' hat into the room. He set in front of the student body and a tear in it's brim opened wide, like a mouth… 

"_Oh, I am old and I am tattered,_

_But that matters not to me,_

_For once I get inside your mind,_

_You won't care what you see._

_I'll judge you well and judge you fairly_

_And you shall live to tell_

_That the dear old Sorting Hat_

_Did mean to wish you well._

_So which house do you prefer?_

_Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff?_

_Slytherin or Gryffindor?_

_All made of interesting stuff!_

_In Ravenclaw the wise_

_Will always find counterparts,_

_Cleverly those Ravenclaws_

_Express clearly their hearts._

_In Gryffindor the brave_

_Trouble not to seek_

_The bravery inside of them_

_Courage builds them readily._

_In Hufflepuff the triers_

_Receive admission without fail_

_If your job needs to be done_

_Just give those ones a hail!_

_And then in Slytherin_

_The power-hungry dwell_

_Of ambitions they have plenty_

_And ideas yet to sell._

## So place me on your noggin

_I will see inside your mind_

_I'll tell you your house-to-be_

_And then you'll find your kind!_

_ _

The Hall burst into applause once it was done, though former students had to admit that the past songs had been better.

"Anger, Mila!" Professor McGonagall called. A chubby girl with pink cheeks ran forward and was Sorted into Hufflepuff. Then "Blue, Valla!" became the first Ravenclaw and "Buggs, Darkel!" was the first Slytherin. The Gryffindors were rewarded with "Carklin, Philip!" as their first new student.

I didn't hear any more until "Igloo, Michael!" became a Hufflepuff, because I was next in line.

"Johnson, Melinda!" I stumbled forward and down the steps, and then sat quickly on the chair.

"_Interesting,_" the Hat said. "_Interesting… no, Slytherin won't do"_ – I was thankful to hear that – "_hmm… you _are_ clever, oh yes, very clever, mustn't forget that, a genius, really…but you _do_ have bravery… hm… oh, dear, I see where you acquired that trait… dear me, you've had it tough… hard worker… well, might as well put you in…_GRYFFINDOR!" The last word was out loud; I smiled in relief, taking off the Hat. Except… now was I supposed to go to the Gryffindor table or back to the teachers' table? Well, Gryffindor, I guessed. So I walked over and sat between Hermione and another girl, one I didn't know.

"Hi!" the girl said brightly. "I'm Lavender, and this is Parvati. Is your mum really the teacher?"

"Yes."

"Oh, interesting! I've never met a student whose mum or dad is the teacher!"

"Well… I mean…"

"Ignore Lavender," Hermione advised. "She talks too much anyway. Besides, Dumbledore's about to talk."

I turned towards him.

"Well, first matters first," he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is Ms. Cyrilia McSmith, also Melinda Johnson's mother. Treat her fairly, please, or I shall hear about it.

"Secondly, Hogsmeade forms must be in by September fifteenth, please no later, because the first trip is on September the twentieth. 

"Thirdly, I have received word from Mr. Filch that Venomous Vinged Voomerangs and Dynamo Dynamite, from the Fabulo Fireworks Friends are now outlawed." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flickered towards two red-haired twins who looked a lot like Ron. They were whistling innocently. Dumbledore went on, "And would whoever blew up the toilet in the tenth floor boys' bathroom please remember that Filibuster's Fabulous No-Heat, Wet-Start Fireworks are prohibited?" The twins whistled even more.

"Fourthly, I want to welcome all new students and let us start the school year off correctly with the Hogwarts school song!"

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts…"

And it was one of the best days I've had in my life.

Peeps it was shorter than the last one but oh, well. Hey, um, do you think I should change the POV for a SHORT while so that we can get people's views on Melinda? Hm? Do the second R of R/R and tell me please!!!! Thanx!


	3. Default Chapter Title

I'm baaaaaaack!!! *~The Mage~* continues!!! Oh, yeah, and thanks to all you reviewers. Umm… more about that at the end.

# Chapter Eight: The Learning of The Lessons

I woke up early the next morning in my new, soft, bouncy bed, staring at a red velvet canopy. I jumped out of the bed and dressed quickly in brand-new robes. Parvati, whose bed was right next to mine, propped herself up on her elbow and looked at me sleepily.

"I like your hair," she mumbled drowsily, nodding at my long dark brown hair that I was braiding. "It's pretty. You're pretty."

"Yeah, Parvati. Thanks. Go back to sleep."

Parvati nodded and re-buried her face in the pillow. I stifled a giggle, picking up my book on famous magical happenings in the past two centuries and walked down to the empty common room. I curled up on an armchair to wait for breakfast and classes.

I must have been absorbed in my book, because the next thing I noticed was a person snapping his fingers in my face. I looked up to see a boy about my age with reddish-brown hair and blue-gray eyes.

"What?"

He laughed.

"Nothing. You look like Hermione, with a book and all."

"I need to catch up," I told him defensively. "Who're you?"

"Seamus Finnigan. And you're the teacher's daughter."

"Geez, that's what I'm known for, hm? I only _became_ her daughter about two weeks ago!"

"What?"

"Oh… she sorta adopted me. Could you not really tell?"

"Sure. Come on."

"Where?"

"I guess we can get to breakfast early."

I shrugged and followed him out the portrait hole.

We were the fifth or so to arrive in the Great Hall. Slowly others straggled in until the tables were full.

"You wake up _early_," Parvati groaned as she sat down next to me.

"I guess. Porridge?"

"Thank you."

The breakfast was delicious, and I was getting full, but when a swarm of owls flew in, I almost dropped my fork.

"The post," Hermione told me.

"Oh."

The post was startling, but I quickly got over it. I mean, this _was_ a wizards' school.

When everyone was starting to get up, Harry took out a schedule and examined it.

"First class… Potions. Oh, no. What a way to start off the year. At least it's not double with the Slytherins. Melinda, you might just want to forget about this class and not let it give you a bad impression of Hogwarts.

"I guess. Whatever."

"Well, come on," said Hermione, pulling me up. I followed her obediently out the door and down, down, down the stairs... 

"It's _cold_," I whined.

"Yeah. Potions is in a dungeon, for who knows what reason."

"A cold dungeon, at that."

"Yeah, but come on, let's go, we gotta be on time."

"Arrrrgh! Time! My worst enemy. But anyway."

We entered the dungeon carrying our cauldrons (A/N: um… Melinda took her cauldron to breakfast, ok? Well, use your imagination please) and sat down.

Soon a greasy-haired man with a hooked nose came in. He searched the class and grinned evilly when he saw me.

"Ah, a new student… the teacher's daughter? Well, well… I just hope your _mother_ doesn't favor you too much."

I saw Harry open his mouth out of the corner of my eye.

"I'm sure Cyrilia is fair, sir," I said quickly, before Harry could get himself in trouble.

"Yes… yes, well, indeed… Potter! What do you get when you combine root of a honeysuckle with the petal of jasmine?"

"A perfume that smells good, sir," Harry said sarcastically.

"Five points from Gryffindor for insolence. Well? Does anyone _else_ know the answer?"

Hermione raised her hand.

"Anyone besides Ms. Granger?"

I raised my hand, too.

"Ah… I see… Ms. Johnson?"

"Oh, I don't know the answer," I said quite calmly, "but I do know that if you're going to say other teachers aren't fair, then you should at least be fair yourself. Harry didn't deserve those points off."

"Potter knows that insolence to teachers is insubordination and so should you, Ms. Johnson. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Now, sir--" Seamus said.

"Finnigan, be quiet! Two points!"

Seamus lapsed into silence.

"Sir, please--"

"SHUT UP ALL OF YOU!" Snape howled. The rest of the lesson was much the same, and I shall elaborate no further.

"He was in a bad mood today," Dean Thomas said on the way to Transfiguration after Potions.

"You mean he's not always like that?" I asked.

"Oh, no," Seamus put in. "Sometimes he's much worse."

"Really?"

Dean and Seamus burst out laughing, presumably at my expression.

"What?"

"Never mind."

"What?"

"Never mind. Transfigurations. Lets go."

The professor for Transfigurations was the witch with tightly pulled back hair who had showed Cyrilia and I to the table... Professor McGonagall, was it? She was very severe indeed and I figured that it would be best not to cross her. Of course, with my temper, it would be hard not to, but…

"Today," she began, "we will work on changing our toadstools into toads."

The class groaned, and so did I.

"None of that," McGonagall said sharply. Then she passed out toadstools.

I tried fruitlessly for twenty minutes, then made sure McGonagall wasn't looking and did it with my own magic. My toad croaked loudly. McGonagall came over.

"Well, very nice indeed… Ms. Johnson… I thought you had never--"

"I haven't," I whispered quickly, cutting her off. "I'm sorry, I used my magic… not my wand…"

I really shouldn't have told her the truth, but I was feeling particularly honest for no reason at all.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!?"

"Umm… can I tell you… _outside_?"

"Fine… Keep trying to transfigure them!" McGonagall yelled at the happy-looking class.

"All right… Melinda… come with me…"

I followed her out into the hall.

"So… what's this about magic…"

Quickly I explained my situation to her.

"Cyrilia told Professor Dumbledore, I know she did…"

"I'll ask him. And for now, please try to use your _wand_?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

We walked back in, and I noticed that although the class was looking at McGonagall innocently, Dean had a stain on his robes that wasn't there before, and Ron's toad had somehow magically turned into a pepper shaker (which Seamus was looking _especially_ innocent about).

The rest of class progressed well. I managed to make my toadstool croak every time to dropped it on the table. Hermione, Parvati, and Seamus were the only ones to have succeeded in turning their toadstools into a toad.

History of Magic was extremely, extremely boring. Professor Biggs was indeed a ghost, but an annoying ghost because he droned so much.

I didn't encounter any _real_ problems until I went to Herbology. I didn't know the slightest thing about it, and I was squirming by the end of class.

Astronomy went fairly well, I was good at Muggle Studies, and all you have to do in Divination is nod sagely when Professor Trelawney says you're going to die by the fourth of December because Jupiter is in the sixth house. As I've just explained those classes to you, I won't go into the details. Except that it was quite fun. I guess. But anyhow.

I sat down to dinner that night quite ravenous and crawled into bed tired. It had been fun, but it had also been tiring.

## Chapter Nine: The Next Day of the Same Year

Note: this is a short chapter, intended to get others' feeling s about Melinda… POV switches to Parvati briefly

I walked down to breakfast tired. How does Melinda get up so early? After four years, I'm still exhausted in the mornings.

I sat down next to Melinda, and she smiled at me. Melinda's really quite lovely, I like her hair, it's long and dark brown and thick, but she always wears it braided into long pigtails. And her eyes scare me. They're so light, more white or clear than anything, with a tinge of gray and blue. There are no emotions in them, just that solid, blank barrier…

Seamus likes her, I think. I don't know. Lavender always tells me that I should stop predicting couples because I always guess wrong. But what does Lavender know, anyway? Even if she IS my best friend…

End of Parvati's POV

Hermione's POV

I said hi to Melinda as I sat down next to her. She's really nice… pretty… she's read Hogwarts, A History, also… so I'm not the only one… she has a really wonderful mind… that's obvious… she's so nice… polite… but her emotions… they're strange, like she doesn't feel anymore… you can see it in her eyes… oh, well. Mail! Is that Mrs. Weasley's owl? Oh, dear, I hope not another Howler for Fred and George…

End of Hermione's POV

Dean's POV (time lapse)

I was partners with Melinda in Potions, Snape wouldn't let me and Seamus work together, he was in a bad mood or something. She's nice… and really pretty… I've been taking bets with Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and a few others on how long it'll take Seamus to ask her out… you can _tell_ he likes her… I mean, he didn't know the answer today in Charms today, and that's his favorite subject – actually, I think that's because Flitwick never makes us do much besides fly stuff around the room and that kind of thing. But still…

End of Dean's POV

Melinda's POV again (don't worry, I'll do Seamus and Harry and Ron soon… plus time lapse, OK, next morning when I continue…)

**Peeps, I know it was sorta short but I really need to post!!! R/R please ok? And um… well, next time, DADA class with Cyrilia and flying lessons… plus netshark I think it was?: Melinda _will_ have more, um, downfalls, I guess… yes, temper is one of them… and genius isn't _necessarily_ bad or good… OK, I'll stop babbling… plus this story will get a _whole_ lot more exciting soon!!! Thanks to all those who reviewed!!! Please continue reading!!! Thanks!!! Bye!!!**


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